Riddles, Hats, and Scarecrows
by Waterwindow
Summary: This is a fic about The Riddler, The Mad Hatter, and The Scarecrow. Love triangles are so funny, no matter how many people win, somebody always looses.  warnings: SLASH, yaoi, male/male. in later chapters. rated M for mature contant.  duh
1. Chapter 1

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 1*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

It was analysis, observation, inspection and best of all scrutiny – Oh yes – the overwhelming glare and hypnotic expression of one just plain staring at you. The cause to the effect that is confusion and awkward silence, which is exactly how Edward felt at the moment – if you can, of course, actually feel an awkward silence (silences in general thought to be quite hard to feel physically, theory disproved and said victim coming to a realization that they're quite easy to feel once noticed).

"Stop it."

The sound of his voice cut into the stagnant atmosphere like a knife.

His doll-like counterpart didn't seem to have heard at all – actually, the man who was doing all this intent looking had nothing but a total lack and void of any and all facial expressions, and if anyone didn't like being ignored, it was Edward Nygma, most commonly known as 'The Riddler'.

"_Stop it."_

Blue irises faltered not but continued to stare onward in a soulless penetrating gaze, adding discomfort to the list of things Eddie was feeling at the moment.

"Hey, what's an eight letter word for '_aggravating'_? Hint: You're being it right now!" He didn't mean to sound shrill and cringed a little at the resonance of his own voice, shifting on his bunk, the ensuing creek echoed off the asylum walls.

As if that had flipped a switch, the Riddler's cellmate stiffened and righted himself. The pastel eyes that glared in such disconnect only moments prior suddenly grew bright and alert, refocusing on Nygma's face.

Jervis Tetch – or more aptly known as the 'The Mad Hatter' – had a puzzled look on his face and glanced around before he settled on staring across the room at the Riddler again.

"What?" Tetch asked, the word sounding more like 'Wot', a pleasant English accent belaying his scruffy asylum uniform clad demeanor.

"Cripes!" Edward gasped at the sudden aggravation, "What do you mean 'Wot'? You were staring at me." He made a mock dumb expression and tilted his head slightly, "Like this, just…. duuuuh."

"Really? Goodness…" A deep pause of relocation passed over the smaller man's features - the moment lasted so long that Nygma began to believe his cellmate had started up again.

"Hey!" Leaning forward he clapped his hands harshly in front the blank face.

"There's no need for that!" Jervis swatted the hands out of his face angrily. "I was daydreaming is all! Don't act so miffed."

"You looked like you were gonna eat me!"

There was a pause and Eddie just realized the absurdity of what he just stated - Looking at the man who was barely over half the Riddler's own height.

Tetch shook his head, it started small, but it grew before finally The Mad Hatter was laughing - louder than necessary - causing other inmates down the hall to start laughing in turn.

His eyes widened as Edward himself nearly started up as well with a small giggle in the cacophony but covered his mouth with a slap and took a deep calming breath. Reminding himself that – No - he was not crazy and thus did not laugh maniacally at nothing without reason.

"Argh! Stop it!" Riddler jumped off his bunk and ran to the glass wall of their cell that faced out towards the hall and slammed his fist on it with a resounding bang. That got about a half minute pause.

There was a giggle down the hall and Edward stiffened, then a chuckle then the whole place started busting up again, this time there was a mix of laughter and people banging on the walls just as Eddie had done.

The Riddler pressed his forehead to the glass and growled.

He wet his lips quickly, whispering at first to himself in thought, "I'm sad without tears…. No… no that's not right", as he continued his voice escalated, "I cry without tears, I'm cold without ice, I'm warm without fire, and felt without feeling, what am I!" He cried out passionately, his voice nearly drowning.

It took a while, but the question caused nearly all of the enthralled crazies to quiet down slowly and reconnoiter their new source of entertainment, even Jervis - who had fallen even deeper into his mania, a plastered grin in place.

"Is it tea, Eddie?" The blond giggled, clapping his hands hopefully, "It can be hot or cold, and it's liquid, thus it cries… sort of."

Edward rolled his eyes at the characteristic answer, "No, Hatter, that's awful. Tea is _not _the answer."

"Is it food?" Came a voice from down the hall.

"What? No!" Edward would've expressed amusement, but he didn't want to risk turning the whole asylum into a zoo full of laughing hyenas again. So, instead a small smirk crossed the brunette's face: a whole hall lined with super geniuses and psychotics of all types and all they had to offer him were dumb answers and silence…Blessed silence - Blessed _thoughtful_ silence – His very favorite kind.

Across the room Jervis was watching as his friend slowly slipped to the floor of their cell, changing from a standing possession to a sitting, a content expression in place. The side of his head pressed softly to the glass as the wait for an answer to his riddle continued.

The Mad Hatter's most recent psychosomatic evaluation states that he as "Obsessive-compulsive" and "highly delusional" with a "childish self-image" suffering from "psychotic manic-depression". Sometimes, though, he has moments of "extreme clarity" and can clearly express himself without having to use any of Lewis Carroll's literary works as a crutch.

Jervis wasn't sure what "Extreme Clarity" meant. Well, he knew their literal meanings –Extreme… and, um, clarity. 'Extreme' means 'a lot', or perhaps 'tremendous' - but not physically. It was more of a… catalyst for other words - words like 'clarity'. 'Clarity' was another word for 'clear' which was another word for 'lucid'.

The blond looked around his cell, his eyes resting on the large glass divider that was the entirety of the wall in front of him. That was 'tremendously lucid' which made it an object with 'extreme clarity'. Tetch blinked and tilted his head in thought.

"Um… How is the Mad Hatter like a large window?" He muttered quietly to himself.

The brown haired man crouching in the corner perked up at the question, "They're easy to see through?"

"Am I truly?"

Riddler stared, "Well, yeah, sometimes."

Ah, yes _moments_ of 'extreme clarity' and what not.

"What else?"

Nygma's electric green eyes focused on the glass, "When you look at them from a certain angle you may see your reflection."

"Oh, that's wonderfully poetic." Jervis closed his eyes and tried to imagine the horror some people would feel seeing themselves in him. It made him smile.

"And…" Riddler clicked his tongue thoughtfully "They're both extremely dangerous when devastated."

"'Devastated' is another word for 'Shattered' how very clever!" He said bowing a little modestly before adding shyly, "You think I'm dangerous? You're too kind."

A green stare eyed him apprehensively, "It's not really a compliment."

Jervis hummed a thoughtful noise in acquiesce before lifting his head, "It's always six o'clock now…"

The intellectual sighed, his friend was quoting Alice and Wonderland. He'd never actually read the book, but being roomed with Jervis has quite informed Nygma about its various nonsensical contents. Besides, he recognized the tone in the other mans voice. Tetch's moment of 'Clarity' had passed.

"You said it, Jerv'." Riddler turned toward the glass again, sad at the loss of his briefly sane conversation.

There was a loud slam from down the hall which drew the attention of all the inmates, causing them all to approach their respective windows. Edward closed his eyes and could feel the vibration of a guard's footsteps coupled with another as they made their way down the long hall.

Someone was coming home.

Jervis grinned like a maniac when into his view entered a Doctor Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as the infamous Scarecrow – self-proclaimed master of fear – restrained by a large sentinel, pausing right in front of his shared cell.

"Your hair needs cutting." the Englishman pointed before giggling happily.

Crane had spent the last two weeks in solitary confinement for being caught in an attempt to escape. Which was a pity, really: Jon suffered from multiple-personality disorder (along with other things), so thus – Jervis could only imagine – this 'punishment' only served to aggravate his condition.

The ruddy-haired man tilted his head in a jerky motion to meet the one who had spoken with a bent smirk that stretched liquidly over his pale features.

"How doth the crocodile?" Crane queried, his voice sounded hoarse. Probably from all the screaming and ranting he did in solitary.

"Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!" Hatter explained logically, then he looked down and motioned at the Riddler who was still sitting with his back to the window, "Curiouser and curiouser…"

Crain nodded sympathetically, "Have you been good to Edward?"

"Sat, Hat, Had, Bad, Bud." Riddler sneered before Hatter could answer.

"That's not true!" Jervis glared down at his petulant counterpart, "I've been good. Not annoying at all!"

Riddler barked a monosyllable laugh in response.

The guard that was with Crane stared blankly at the trio, then rolled his eyes before turning to quickly slide his keycard into the slot beside an empty cell directly across the hall of the Riddler and Hatter. He was used to this nonsense.

"You think it would kill you crazies to try having a normal conversation for once." The guard muttered, shoving Crane into the cell and closing it quickly.

"I-I hardly know, sir, just at present- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then." Hatter tried to explain to the guard, which earned him an odd look coupled with a shake of the head.

"Ooookay," the guard said with a slight smile, walking away, "You guys have fun."

"Oh, you can't help that" Hatter nodded, happily calling after him, "We're all mad here."


	2. Chapter 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 2*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"How are you feeling today, Jonathan?"

"Drugged."

There was slight inclination of the head before, "Explain."

"I feel numb. Like my body is stuffed with cotton. And I can't think strait.

"Does that make you angry?"

A short pause, then, "Not really."

"You can be honest with me," The councilor smiled kindly.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

"So it does make you mad."

"Will you stop patronizing me? You know as well as I that the meds are made to dumb down my emotions – yet you keep interrogating me about my feelings." The Doctor stared at his patient then at his watch. The first two minutes of his first session in Arkham were not going well.

On just arriving here, the green psychologist had requested a challenge. He was fresh out of college and hungry for adventure. Being at the top of his class, he had landed himself a prestigious job. Jonathan Crane could tell this guy was new.

The new guy could tell that Crane could tell he was new.

He sighed quietly, "I'm sorry, you must be tired. The new medication is part of the latest treatment plan here. It affects everybody, but don't worry the side affects will wear off in a few days."

"Joy."

Another pause, the young psychologist was running out of ideas and he could tell by Jon's attitude that if he didn't spark a conversation in between himself and the patient that he would loose him.

"So… Tell me about your time in solitary."

"Have you ever experienced solitary confinement?"

"No."

Finally - as if he were bored, Crane tilted his head to one side and stared at the wall thoughtfully, licking his cracked lips.

"Hey diddle diddle…"


	3. Chapter 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 3*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Edward stood on the balance beam in the recreational room; he was trying to imagine himself walking on a tightrope that was positioned hundreds of feet off the ground. This task was rather difficult, considering the beam was only about half a foot above the carpet. His friend, Jervis was laying flat on his back parallel to the beam, staring up at the ceiling and humming to himself; pacing backwards along the plank until his face lined up with the blonde's, Edward could see that Hatter was stared onward through him as if he were star-gazing.

"Well," Nygma sighed in disappointment, "you're in La-la land," looking around the room for better company proved fruitless, as that Edward and Jervis were the only one's in the exercise room at the moment. Save the guard.

Looking back down at his friend in disconnect he spoke, knowing Tetch probably wouldn't answer with anything that resembled intellect. But – heck- Nygma needed to say something -needed to hear someone's voice, even if it was just his,

"It's often coveted, sometimes loathed; if you name it you'll break it. What is it?"

Jervis let out a long, drawn-out breath, "Wonderland."

"No…" Riddler replied sadly.

Sitting up, "I was in _wonderland_, not La-la land." The Englishman corrected.

"Oh, right, sorry."

"…And the answer to your riddle is…. 'Silence', I think."

"Hey, Tetch, get off the floor!" the guard shouted causing the small one to jump to his feet.

"You're very rude!" He called indignantly, brushing dirt off his hindquarters, "Also, 'A Voice' would be the answer to that other riddle you came up with yesterday, I'd wager."

Riddler smiled at the memory as he recited, "I cry without tears, I'm cold without ice, I'm warm without fire, and felt without feeling, what am I? Answer: A Voice. Correct."

Looking around dully, "Very true - Flamingoes and mustard both bite. And the moral of that is: 'Birds of a feather flock together'" Jervis said.

Riddler rolled his eyes - dismally noting that that had to be the _weirdest_ thing he's heard the Hatter say up to date, "I'm bored and miss Jon too… But you know how they treat him after he has an episode," He motioned with his hands, making like he's hugging himself tightly in a straitjacket "He's in therapy right now, I think."

As if on cue, the door opened and two doctors came in with Jonathan. His tall, lanky and malnourished form was held high in triumphant superiority – He'd probably just stumped his psychologist, no doubt. The roommates exchanged smiles with each other and then waved at their victorious friend.

"Okay, Crane, You've got half an hour." The guard shunted the wiry one forward roughly.

The two Doctors that had escorted their friend made their way to the other two inmates and Edward eyed them warily as they approached– had he done something wrong? Maybe they were here for Jervis - the man in question was smiling blithely at the two men approaching.

Then they saw the tray with two syringes, two Doctors, two patients, two needles, Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee. Tetch laughed raucously but the Riddler's heart rate jumped a few clicks, shifting his feet anxiously like a trapped animal, staring at the needles his eyes widening slightly.

The First doctor noticed Nygma's attitude and raised his hand in a friendly gesture, "Hey, guys. We're here to give you some new medication."

Riddler turned to look at Crane who was standing off to the corner, "Crane? What is this?"

Jon knew that Edward had a slight pharmacophobia, especially towards narcotics and medication that messed with his emotion and The Scarecrow – always eager to scare someone - smirked darkly.

The Doctor answered firmly before Jonathan had a chance to instill any fear into the other, "It's just going to put you to sleep, that's all."

Wrong choice of words, the medic decided, seeing his patient shrink away in horror.

"…What?" Edward whispered with clenched teeth.

"Oh, you're going to die." Crane raised his eyebrows as if he had just stumbled upon something terribly shocking. The Doctor shot him a dirty look which made him laugh.

Jervis caught the tone in his friend's voice and pointed at the doctor holding the syringes, "Beware the Jabberwock, my son, with teeth that bite and claws that catch!" He cried to Edward in a mixture of mock fear and amusement.

That was the last straw and Nygma took off at a dead sprint towards Crane.

"Hey!" the guard yelped in surprise at seeing the sudden movement and made to catch the man but missed.

"Nononononono, Oh no nono! Crane, don't let them do anything to me!" Edward grabbed his friend's spindly arm and positioned himself behind the lean frame.

"Ow! Stop it!" The scarecrow wriggled but couldn't get out of the desperate grip.

"Please! They're gonna kill me!"

Riddler's eyes were as wide as saucers when the doctors grabbed Tetch, who was laughing so hard he could barely stand up.

Crane turned his head and looked at the shivering man using him as a shield. The usually pompous man, who'd used his mind to run circles around the Batman with riddles, was showing his true colors. The Riddler stared up at him with his bright green eyes flashing in horror as Jervis was given whatever monstrous concoction the medics had in store.

Jervis watched the needle exit his skin and he smiled up at the man who administered it. The Doctor pat Tetch on the head thankfully which got a gleeful noise from the childish man, who always craved such attention.

_Now for the hard part_ – Both physicians thought harmoniously staring at Nygma shivering in the corner behind the other.

Then they looked at Jon anxiously – who was staring at his pitiful friend in annoyance – both of the doctors knew that, at times, the scarecrow would opt to watch his comrades suffer gleefully. While at other times Crane was prone to viciousness when his friends were threatened. And this conjunction in his behavior was what caused the medics to stiffen slightly when the man who was barring their way from the Riddler turned and glared coldly at them.

At the leave of his superiors, the beefy guard approached and held out his night stick, nudging Crane in the arm, "Move it, beanpole. The Docs need to get to 'im."

"When I'm born, I'm sharp. When I live, I'm blunt. After death, I draw breath. What am I?" The Riddler whispered desperately as the guard continued to push Jon, who moved away obediently so the doctors could approach.

The man who was inquired turned his head to his friend, a cruel smirk building itself on his pastel face.

"A scream."


	4. Chapter 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 4*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"What's on your mind, Jervis?"

The blond Englishman looked up from the coloring book that was in front of him on the table; this was the first time his councilor had spoken since the beginning of his session.

"What's on my mind? Well, I suppose a hat would be, if you permitted me one." He said in a flat tone.

"What are you drawing?"

Looking down at the paper, "A hole." He stated

The psychiatrist blinked, "Can I see?" Jervis passed the paper over.

Lo and behold, there on the paper was a dark splotch that was circular, stretching to each corner of the paper. It was darker in the center and radiated from there, the long spiraling crayon marks becoming more erratic and farther apart toward the edges,

"That's interesting, what inspired you to draw this?"

The little man shrugged.

"Is it the hole Alice went down while she followed the white rabbit?"

Tetch shook his head slowly; he was sleepy and didn't feel like being in this session. The drug they gave him prior was making his head feel all fuzzy – the inside of it, that is.

"It's not the rabbit hole?"

"No…" Jervis drawled in a bored tone. If he had drawn the Rabbit hole, he would have put a rabbi t in it, obviously.

"It's just a hole?" The doctor gave the paper back.

"Yes, it's a hole."

"…A hole in what?"

"Anything at all."

Putting his drawing on the table, "A hole in the table," Jervis explained.

The doctor watched with interest as the small man got up and put it the paper on the far wall, "A hole in the wall."

Then he turned towards the other and held the paper in the air in front of him.

"A hole in you."

Then held the paper against his own chest,

"A hole in me…"


	5. Chapter 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 5*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Handrail."

"Beanpole."

"Twig."

He was going to get Crane for this.

The Riddler shifted uncomfortably in his straitjacket and scooted himself across the floor so he could lie on his back and stretch out his legs. After his episode in the rec-room the doctors put him in solitary until he 'calmed down'.

He wouldn't even have freaked out in the first place if Scarecrow hadn't scared him so much, the jerk!

"Sasquatch."

"Shovel foot."

He stared up angrily at the ceiling as he recited to himself all the nasty names he would spit at that Scarecrow. It was actually entertaining, especially when he wanted to do so without using cuss words (because those were stereotypical, and _The Riddler's_ insults must be nothing short of spectacular).

"Bony shovel-footed Sasquatch."

"Freak."

"Sick-o."

"Snake."

The Riddler coughed suddenly because his throat had started to itch.

Clearing his gullet harshly he continued, "Urine."

A long pause, then:

"You are a festering pool of snake pee, Crane."

He smiled thoughtfully - That was rather good…. but a little _too_ vulgar.

"You are a…. umm," He abruptly coughed again and sniffed again, maybe he was catching a cold…


	6. Chapter 6

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 6*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"You're a hideous boil on the butt of society, Crane!" The Riddler called from his cell.

Tetch's head shot up with a look of horror – now wholly diverted from the fat book he was currently reading.

Crane chuckled from his respective cubicle across the way, "That was rude…"

"That was horrendous!" Jervis gasped with all the prudency of a church lady, "You shouldn't speak in such a manner - it's unbecoming of a gentleman!"

Ignoring the rebuke and swelling with pride, the brunette walked over to the blond with curiosity, "What book is that? 'Alice and Wonderland'?"

People in Arkham, were often allowed literature – granted it was very limited: they were only permitted books that did not aggravate their condition. Such that Jervis was not allowed any of Lewis Carol's work. Edward knew this, but he felt particularly impish at the moment and wanted to pull Jervis's strings.

"Obviously not - and it's 'Alice _IN_ Wonderland', you tart." Jervis cleared his throat in irritation before smiling kindly, hefting up the book that was nearly as big as he was, "It's a wonderfully informative book on spelunking."

"Ah… spelunking?"

"Yes, you know - It's where you jump down a giant hole with a myriad of gear and such?"

"Yeah, yeah - Cave exploration. I know what spelunking is!" Nygma sighed in aggravation, he wasn't an idiot, "I just want to know 'why'."

Jervis shrugged and opened the book again, "I drew a hole in session today, so my doctor gave me this."

"He lets you draw? Ugh, that's not fair." Edward usually wasn't allowed pencil and paper because all he ever did with them is write down riddles or draw mazes, and on that note Nygma was thrown into a fit of coughing.

"Are you quite alright, Ed?" Jervis said while covering his own face in an attempt to shield it from whatever ailment was causing the other to suffer.

Edward covered his mouth and continued cough before punctuating his fit with a harsh clearing of his throat, "My throat itches. I think I'm catching a cold."

"Oh, you poor thing…"

The Scarecrow – who was only half-listening to his companions' conversation - suddenly spoke from across the hall, "You drew a hole?"

Jervis perked and swiveled his head, causing his shoulder-length hair to swirl into his face, "Yes I did, and it was a big black hole," Smiling sleepily at the memory, he was a little sad that his doctor didn't let him keep it so he could show his friends.

Jonathan nodded slowly from the spot he sat in his cot, immediately understanding what his companion was talking about,

"How deep is it?"

"Too deep"

"What's at the bottom?"

"I don't know at the moment…."

"It's not Wonderland."

"No… it's not." The Englishman's eyes watered a little and he sniffed, "It's… it's someplace awful."

Crane sat up in his cot and came to the glass divider; the other men were clearly visible on the end of the hall – one sitting on his bed, the other standing near. Jonathon's hazel eyes fell on Jervis's pastel blue.

"Awful?"

"Yes…" The Mad Hatter whispered, hugging the heavy book to he chest like a shield.

"Oh…" Scarecrow tilted his head as if he where staring up into the heavens, a wide smirk flashing in the dark's gloom before he spoke again in far away voice, as if he were talking to himself,

"It's not that bad…"

"I agree," The Riddler cut in with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 7*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

In the late of night, a deep and unforgiving night – on a night like this (as cliché as it sounds) – Arkham asylum always resembled a nightmare. A nightmare full of screams and laughter, hoots and howls, sobs and whimpers. The Asylum became a black fortress filled to the brim with demons driven mad with fear or hunger.

This night was perfect for such an event, the Scarecrow knew – the indicators where buzzing at the back of his skull and the whispering in his head was becoming ardent.

But the hospital was silent. Hushed.

And Jonathan Crane knew why: The medication.

He had been studying the effects it has had on his fellow inmates. The 'medicine' – so called – was nothing more than some sort of truth serum mixed with a slow-acting sedative. A very strong sedative, granted – it was enough to knock out the whole place.

He was a little put out – to tell the truth. He liked to fully enjoy nights like this, liked to let his alter-ego fully emerge and rip through the airwaves with its unquenchable thirst for mayhem. Sure, he couldn't actually hurt anyone while being trapped in this cell, but it wasn't blood that he was really after anyways (though that was nice), it was fear.

Oh, how he loved it.

…He missed it.

The satisfactions of watching people shrink away from him in horror when he howled like a lost soul. He would raise his arms high in the air like an open challenge to the heavens. The night would be his ally, fear was his weapon – like a knife already deep inside his victims: there was no escape from what was inside. It was always just a matter of finding that weakness and twisting and exploiting it.

But there would be no howling tonight… or moving for that matter.

So far the sedative had not knocked out the ex-psychiatrist, only rendered his limbs unresponsive. Insomnia was never a disorder Crane enjoyed, it seemed that there was never a sleeping pill or sedative in the world that could knock him out – nothing that could give him a break and shut up the voice in his head. The only times he ever did sleep was when his body met its limit, where he would simply collapse from exhaustion – an event that struck at random. Crane considered this one of his few weaknesses.

The ruddy-haired man began to recite the old nursery rhyme softly to himself, the raspy echo of his own voice comforting himself slightly,

"Monday's child is fair of face; Tuesday's child is full of grace,"

_I want, I want to leave thissss placeeeee._

"Wednesday's child is full of woe; Thursday's child has far to go,"

_But when will I? It'sssss hard to knowww_

"Friday's child is loving and giving; Saturday's child works hard for his living,""

_All it will take isssss a little deceeeeiving _

"…And the child that is born on the Sabbath day…"

_We will ssssurely have our waaaay…_


	8. Chapter 8

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 8*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"How are you, now that you're rooming with Mr. Techt,"

"Alright, I guess. He's hard to talk too, sometimes he doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't make sense?"

"Yeah, he talks a lot about 'Wonderland'" Edward shook his head in disappointment, "The man lives in a fantasy."

Edward Nygma had awoken that morning in a pool of his own sweat and a splitting headache. After shower and breakfast, he had been roughly taken to his weekly session (which apparently had been moved to the morning). While being led to his psychiatrist's office, he had noticed that the temperature was growing to be a little stifling.

"What do you think about fantasy?"

"It has its uses, but… Sometimes people can get lost in it. It dulls the mind." The Riddler tapped his hand on his temple – dully noting that his skin was warm to the touch.

"Do you think being roomed with Jervis has dulled your mind?"

Eddie swelled with pride "No - If anything - Jervis has grown sharper in my company!"

"In what way?"

"Well… I keep him on his toes with all of my ingenious riddles, of course. He's just so attention starved that he'll do anything to get the respect and companionship he wants - and he knows I'll never give him any if he can't prove himself to me." The Riddler laughed, "I'm playing him at his own game, manipulating The Mad Hatter."

"Very good, Mr. Nygma," The other man said dismissively, "Attention starved, you say?"

"Yep. More… clingy, I guess. Jonny would have a hay-day exploiting his fear of being abandoned."

The Doctor nodded and jotted down some notes, "I'd like to talk about Mr. Crane as well, but back to Mr. Techt. Has he met your expectations?"

"So far, but the day is still young."

"So, you're constantly challenging his intellect."

"It's hard work being friends with The Riddler!" He declared happily.

"Ah… And now to Crane..."

"Exemplary, intelligence," The brunette stroked his chin, "But he's also living in a fantasy… A fantasy where he's the Horrible Scarecrow – Some sort of God of Fear, and that all should respect him – He's mixed up. He thinks being feared equals being respected."

"That's very insightful."

Nygma smiled slyly – obviously flattered. He's always liked his Counselor, even if he wasn't allowed to talk to him in riddles - or ask questions at all for that matter – this was a place where he could have a normal conversation with a normal person. And he was more than willing to respond with 100% straight answers (as strait as he could get them) if it meant a keeping the one shred of normalcy in his life.

On top of that, if he keeps this up, he might get out of this place.


	9. Chapter 9

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*Chapter 9*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

The fist came down with a bone-shaking intensity causing the small man on the receiving end to gasp for air. He stumbled back into the crowd, which in turn pushed him back into his attacker – jeers and shouts of encouragement echoed through the cafeteria pulsed in his ears.

A huge hand shot foreword and gripped the front of Jervis' orange Asylum-grade uniform and hoisted him up off the ground.

"Put me down! You… you Jaberwock! I will not be treated this way!" Tetch yelped bravely, sounding about as intimidating as a dormouse.

"No way, senior…" The hulking Hispanic man who called himself 'Bane' said in a guttural growl before hoisting the other higher.

These sort of things happened sometimes during lunch. Usually it was between a smaller, diminutive inmate and a larger one looking to pick on someone. It was an easy game. Two inmates would be ushered together and surrounded by an impenetrable wall of other prisoners – this would serve to keep the guards and doctors away while the two locked in the arena duked it out.

Today Bane decided he was going to beat the snot out of The Mad Hatter.

And it wasn't just snot that was coming from the said man today: it was also tears, and blood.

Earlier that hour Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch had been sitting in there usual place in the lunch room. There was an empty spot besides Jon because the Riddler had just been pulled from their presence to go to his newly scheduled session.

The two were locked in a deep conversation, which was laced - as usual - throughout with the occasional quote of nonsensical nursery rhymes and Alice in Wonderland.

Crane scooped the grey mush the cook called mashed potatoes, up with a fork and stirred it in with a glob of cold, jelly-like gravy, "Curds and whey."

Jervis had sighed sadly, while picking through his lunch like a fussy child "Who stole the tarts…?"

"They must be cutting back on funds … Or they're cleaning out the fridge because this lunch is particularly fowl…"

"When I was a small child, I was terribly frightened of spiders… But I am no longer," Jervis admitted suddenly to his friend, , "Why is that?"

"I was as well." Jon answered with a nod of the head, in-between bites of – what The Mad Hatter hesitated to call - food,

"It's a typical fear, spiders are strange and different from what a small child usually encounters. Tales of poisonous bites that can kill people are often told to kids by their parents, this is what instills the amplified and irrational fear most children have of spiders without any sort of experience in the matter. As people grow older the fear slowly transforms into knowledge. People begin to realize that they are much bigger than spiders and can dominate them easily. It also eases them to discover that the spider is usually much more afraid of them than they are of the creature itself."

He took another large bite, "The feeling of dominance quells the fear. There are some spiders that are still feared though, such as the black widow: this also stems from childhood memoirs, but this fear is logical and rational – socially acceptable - because the bite of such a spider is actually deadly."

He smirked as he finished, "And I've already lectured you on how the fear of death governs our actions."

Crane frowned when he noticed the Englishman playing with his meal before scolding with a growl,

"Little Miss Muffet…"

"It's awful stuff, really." Jervis whined as he gagged on a small bit he just tried to consume.

"It is. But if you don't eat it, I will."

"Is that a promise?"

That earned the smaller man a slap to the back of his head.

"Ow!" he yelped, his hands shooting protectively to the location of the assault "No wonder you're late. Why, this watch is exactly two days slow!"

"Eat it. Someone like you needs all the nutrition they can get."

Furrowing his brow, Jervis pouted, "Now, that's calling the kettle black isn't it, dear?"

"Spoiled brat," Jon huffed before finishing off his own meal.

"Hey! I can't help it if I've a sense of taste unlike some people. And frankly," he made a grandiose gesture towards his tray, "This is repulsive."

"And I suppose you were expecting tea and crumpets."

"At the _very_ least," the other declared with a snobbish huff.

As the two comrades continued their conflict, the taller of the two became aware of a presence looming behind them and twisted suddenly to see.

"Hola, amigos," Bane said, while he loomed.

"Why, hello!" Jervis chirped happily, swiveling in his seat to greet the other, "Your hair needs cutting."

Bane frowned for a second before continuing in a friendly manner, ignoring the blonde all together, focusing his attention on Crane before punching him.

Jervis screamed in shock as his friend's head shot back harshly recoiling in surprise and pain, holding the side of his face.

"I heard you wanted to fight…" Bane explained sociably.

Another fist came down on the scrawny scarecrow, who twisted out of his seat – affectively dodging the blow, but the ex-wrestler caught him in the crook of his arm before he could scuttle out of reach.

"Stop!" Jervis shouted, standing on his chair.

Bane paid no head to the distraught hatter and tossed Crane onto the floor roughly, and started to kick him.

"I said STOP! STOP!"

Deep in the caverns of a shattered mind, locked in a now battered and bruised head, old memories of previous abuse were playing vividly; reruns and reruns of horrible beatings and spiteful laughter. No, no, stop! Please! I can't stand it, please, granny please!

Crane shuddered as another kick planted a cruel pain in his side.

The spindly man then jumped up off the floor and ran to the other end of the table, running his long fingers through his hair and breathing unevenly like a scared animal, all the while keeping a wide-eyed gaze glued on the floor, avoiding the amused look in the blood thirsty hulking psychopath's eyes.

"_What'sssss wrong Jonny booooooy….?_" Crane whispered to himself in a shaky sing-song voice.

A small crowd had begun to form around the three men, and they began to goad Bane and encourage him - he smiled broadly - inflating his chest with pride before strutting forward. The Mad Hatter's mouth dropped at the blatant enjoyment being derived from this blood-sport – how dare they, that wasn't just any man being abused there, that was the Scarecrow and - more importantly - Jervis' friend! The hell he was going to stand back and just allow it to happen! Tetch glanced over to Crane's direction as Bane approached him, who in response hissed at him and barred his teeth, all the while keeping his eyes glued to the floor, causing the other to laugh heartily.

"What's wrong, senior Crane? I thought you wanted to fight…" Bane grinned and grabbed the other.

Jon's eyes finally flickered up to meet the other's, his lips pulled back and he whispered in a distorted voice, his face looking the picture of other-worldly rage, "_Crane'ssss not heeeeeerrrre…."_

But the Scarecrow was drown out by Jervis who screeched at the top of his lungs in outrage, grabbed his full tray of food and hurled it at Bane's head.

If there was one thing that The Mad Hatter was known for, it would be his aim and the tray met its desired target with deadly accuracy, the corner of it being the first thing to hit the back of the wrestler's head. The tray then bounced and spun in the air topsy-turvy for a half second, just long enough for the man to tilt his head up to see what hit him before it crashing down upturned directly on the Hispanic face, food depositing itself on every inch of it.

"I SAID STOP! AND I BLOODY WELL MENT IT, BRUTE!" The Englishman's face was red with anger, "AND I HATE BEING IGNORED, YOU BLOODY PECK!"

Crane's eyebrows climbed his forehead in surprise, and the man had said _Edward_ was the one with the fowl mouth. So far in his friendship with the blond, he had never heard the man blow like that.

Bane on the other hand had heard quite enough and dropped Jon with a jerk of his wrist. He turned slowly, emitting an aura of pure and animalistic rage.

"So…" the large one's voice was deadly quiet as the tray slid to the ground with a clatter, "You hate to be ignored amigo…? You want someone to pay attention to you little man…?"

Blue eyes widened in shock, "O-oh dear…" Jervis whispered, paling in terror, realizing what he had just done "B-beware the jabberwocky…."


End file.
